Progress of a Kind
by emeraldstoker
Summary: After Lee confronts Jim about Galavan he walks out. In this story, he goes back to living at Gotham PD and catches the flu from stress and subpar living arrangements. He continues to work until he can't. Harvey gets worried and fetches Lee to have a look. Sick and vulnerable, Jim finally opens up and Lee is forced to confront some things of her own. T for themes- I own nothing.
"Jim's been sick for a few days but this is the first time he hasn't made it upstairs to work."

"Cop at all costs." Lee replied, switching her doctor's bag to the other hand to grip the railing.

Harvey opened the door and led Lee inside. They approached Jim's cot and Lee could not hold back a gasp. "Jim!"

The man groaned, fretfully tossing and shivering on the narrow cot. He was pale to the point of grey. Wrappers littered the floor around him, suggesting he'd been mostly living off of vending machine fare.

Lee placed the back of her hand on his cheek. "He's burning up. Help me get him out of here, Harvey."

"Right."

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"Harvey, you're blocking my light."

"Oh, sorry."

"Jim's so self-contained, it seems even his veins got the memo. Not really. He's just dehydrated. But of course that's why he needs the IV. Ah!" Lee found the illusive vein and plunged in the needle. She secured it with surgical tape. "This'll start to bring the fever back under control." She used an ear thermometer to take his temperature. "104."

Harvey whistled. "That's not good. Still looks like you're set up to take care of him here."

"When your local hospital is Gotham General, you try to be medically self-sufficient." Lee went to her closet and checked the thermometer on her mini-fridge of medicine. "32 degrees." She made a note. "For a start I know my storage conditions are good. Honestly if there was one thing Jim, Captain Barnes and I probably agreed on is that Mrs Fries should not have been brought to Gotham General."

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"103." Lee read the ear thermometer and freshened the cool cloth across Jim's brow.

"You don't have to do this. After..."

"I'm still a doctor." Lee winced at her half-truth. Despite everything she still cared deeply for the man. She held out a glass of ice water with a straw. "Drink as much as you can. It'll bring your fever down."

Jim complied and coughed a little as he finished.

"That's good."

"Thank you." He shivered suddenly. Lee straightened and smoothed the blankets over him.

"I'm sorry, Lee. For everything."

"I just wish you'd tell me why. You make these inhumane, illegal calls and then just say it's police work. I don't think you're a monster, nothing like what Barbara became but I've tried so hard to understand. I can't. And I'm hurt that you lied to me."

"I wasn't OK with using a sick woman as bait, Lee. I hope you can still believe that. Her husband was the criminal and it should have had nothing to do with her. Except it did... because it was all for her. We had the one person he cared about while was holding the city hostage. A lot of innocent people died and possibly a lot more were going to. Doing nothing can be the worse call even if what you do is bad like killing a little boy."

"Jim?"

"Forget it."

"Oh no you don't! You're not going to say something like that and expect me to leave it there. What do you mean?"

Jim closed his eyes and tears escaped the corners, leaving chalky trails on pale cheeks. He suddenly looked so lost and vulnerable that Lee felt a 'never mind. We'll talk later' forming in her throat. But she didn't and he drew a halting breath and opened his eyes.

"There was a child soldier. I could have shot him and I didn't. He killed three of the men I was with. There's no way I wouldn't have hated myself for killing a kid... any kid, even one capable of what he did. But I hate myself when I think of those men who died because I didn't act. And Parks... Parks." Jim broke off crying. Lee sat down on the bed and steered him into a sitting position, leaning on her shoulder. "I can't let more people die, Lee. Even if it means I can't afford to be the man I was... the man you love."

Lee felt tears on her own face as she tenderly held Jim to her, doing her best to calm the chills and sobs wracking through him. "You are still that man, Jim Gordon, maybe too much for your own good. And I'm sorry I ever said you weren't." She kissed his forehead. "Take your time but you should get some rest. I'll stay till you're sleeping."

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Lee was better than her word. She stayed and watched Jim sleep for about an hour and thought. She thought about the times he had been honest with her... about killing for Cobblepot. About Barbara. About Flamingo. And just now, about his war-time trauma, which finally made the whole thing comprehensible and heart-breaking. She saw Barbara's trauma, Bruce's trauma. Why hadn't she seen Jim's? What could be more traumatic and twisted than a situation that leaves you guilty for not killing a child?

And Gotham... Gotham was the perfect place to confirm and reconfirm that terrible experience. It was reconfirmed with the maniacs, with Flamingo... with Galavan the first time when he beat justice. And it was confirmed the other direction when Jim killed people, used people and kept getting results, kept getting the better end through increasingly awful means. And Jim was prepared to sacrifice everything, literally everything down to the very core of what it meant to be him.

Ironically, that made him more James Gordon than she'd thought, as she'd remarked before he'd gone to sleep, even as it wore him away and made him less.

Again, it broke her heart to think on all these things. Because as she realized that Jim was still very much the man she loved, she also knew she could not in good conscience let him continue without speaking up. He needed help. He wouldn't want to hear it and Lee also knew that if he refused, she'd have to leave for good. To stay would be enabling a truly destructive life. She couldn't stop him, force him to get healthy and she knew that. But damned if she would keep silent and condone it.

"OK," she whispered under her breath. "One step at a time. Help Jim get over this bug. Then tackle the insurmountable mental heath issues."

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When Lee returned to the bedroom with a mug of chicken- rice soup. Jim was just stirring awake.

"Hi," she smiled and sat down on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

Lee put the thermometer in his ear and checked the reading. "102.4. On the mend. Did you sleep well?"

He nodded. "Did I... did we talk or..."

"We did."

"Thought I might have dreamt it. What did I..."

"Pretty much everything."

He nodded again, jaw clenching. "And what do you think?"

"I think that you have a nasty influenza that we're going to fight off before anything else is up for discussion. I think that you're going to have some chicken soup and then go back to sleep."

"You made me chicken soup?" His jaw relaxed and his chin quivered in his characteristically unfair way.

"I'm not Barbara, Jim. I don't think leaving half a box of kleenex and some undissolved theraflu packets constitute taking care of a sick loved one."

"You still..."

"Yeah. Now sit up, the soup'll get cold."

Jim complied and accepted the mug. But his hand shook and he nearly spilled the contents. Lee reached out to steady the mug and bring it back towards his lips.

"I don't need help."

"Yes, you do." Lee persisted.

"OK... maybe I do."

Lee steadied the mug as Jim took a few sips. "Well, this is progress of a kind... for both of us."


End file.
